


Dark Side of the Moon

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Horror, PG-13 - Blue Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-05
Updated: 2009-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: It's Hallowe'en and there's a vampire in town.





	1. Track 1: Speak to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for the [Spook Me 2008 Hallowe'en Challenge](http://spook_me.livejournal.com)

And so the scene is set. Our hero stands gazing out of the window, across the great city he is obliged to protect. A lonely man, one who understands the heavy weight of responsibility, the setting sun sending orange and gold hues dancing across his face as he takes a sip of the amber liquid from the glass in his hands. The half empty scotch bottle stands on the ledge, just to one side of him and it's clear that the bottle will be empty before the end of the long, dark night. He is man out of place, out of time, trying to do his utmost to keep ahead of the game on these unfamiliar streets. 

 

 

He puts the now-empty glass down next to the bottle, rubs his face in a gesture that is obviously ingrained, and exhales.

 

 

This, however much it looks like it, is not the Manchester of his youth. Its rules and regulations, existence itself, are different and he would do well to remember that.

 

 

But it is difficult sometimes. He is, in a very real sense, now master of his own destiny and, to a lesser extent, master of everyone else's.

 

 

It is inevitable, therefore, that of what happens next, he blames himself entirely.


	2. Track 2: Breathe

Detective Inspector Sam Tyler really wasn't sure why the current love of his life, Annie, wasn't talking to him, but it was painfully obvious that she was giving him the cold shoulder. Even the usually completely oblivious Chris had noticed, though comment had been restricted to a sympathetic wink and the universal shrug which seemed to mean 'women, eh' in this time and place.

 

 

It had been going on almost a week, since their ill-fated trip to the Flamingo and a very nice lady by the name of Eleanor. Sam was sure that he'd explained perfectly adequately why he'd ended up talking to the tall, slim brunette for almost an hour while Annie had worked off her compulsion to dance, but she obviously still had some issues about it.

 

 

_Women, eh?_

 

 

Still, chatting to Eleanor had been entertaining. She had seen a lot of the same films Sam had and had a wicked sense of humour. Sam had been surprised when Annie had appeared at his elbow, demanding the drink he had gone to procure fifty minutes before. But there again, time did tend to fly when you were having fun. Annie really hadn't taken to the other woman and Sam had reluctantly bid farewell to Eleanor. However, some friends outside the force were always welcome, regardless of gender, and so he had taken pains to obtain his new friend's number before they parted.

 

 

Goodness knew what Annie would do if she found that out, if she was making this much of a fuss over a brief conversation in a crowded nightclub.

 

 

Sam sighed. What he needed was a diversion. Work in CID had been criminally slow over the last couple of weeks. They'd even taken to trawling through old casefiles in the hope of stirring up some trade. Not that everyone in the team had been 100% behind that one, of course. A certain DS was under the impression that quiet times were fair dues for the more hectic periods. And Gene. Well. He seemed to consider the lull as a perfect excuse for protracted pub-crawls, even to taking in some of the seedier parts of the city.

 

 

Gene had just tapped his nose at Sam's enquiries and called it 'community policing', but Sam knew better. You weren't about to engender respect in the force by half-falling off your stool in the middle of a dive and starting, however inadvertently, a pub brawl that took eight men to break up.

 

 

Sam rubbed at his elbow, a casualty of the aforementioned brawl, and sighed once again for good measure. Phyllis had taken to haunting CID, but whether in the hope of action or in the hope of obtaining even more blackmail on the denizens of the third floor, well, that was undoubtedly a moot point. And even Chris didn't seem to be immune. While Ray saw fit to snooze under the cover of the Racing Post, Chris had taken to ridiculous practical jokes in an effort to relieve the tedium. Only yesterday there had been a complaint from one of the plonks that Chris had leapt out at her, waving his arms and wearing a particularly silly set of false teeth.

 

 

She'd done what any self-respecting WPC would do and kneed him in the balls before running away. But still, Sam knew he needed to have a word with the Detective Constable before he did anything worthy of a formal warning.

 

 

_Tea_ , Sam thought, decisively. There's nothing like tea for solving anything. Even boredom. He'd go down to the canteen and see if he could con a cuppa and a slice of cake out of Gwen. She always did have a soft spot for him.

 

 

Decision made, he stood and turned to leave the office.

 

 

It seemed that even thinking about tea seemed to magically help the boredom levels as at that moment, Gene burst into the office, a whirlwind in beige.

 

 

"Tyler! Don’t run away on me now. We've got a stiff. Prozzie by the name of Sandra. Body is being delivered to the morgue as we speak. Ray, Chris. I want you out on the streets, talk to the girls. Find out what and especially who she was doing last night. Probably just a disgruntled client, but you never know, might be something more juicy. Sam, you're with me."

 

 

"What about Annie, Guv?" Chris asked, already leaping into action.

 

 

"Where is she?"

 

 

"I think she went to help Phyllis out with something, Guv."

 

 

"Well, make sure you collect her on your way out. I'm sure she'll do better than both of you at all that girl-talk. She dresses enough like a tart on her nights off."

 

 

"So where are we going?" Sam inquired as he grabbed his jacket.

 

 

"The morgue," Gene answered, already making his way towards the lift. "There's something we need to check on before we do anything else."


	3. Track 3: On The Run

To Sam's eyes, there was little to be gained by the visit to the morgue. Sandra had been in good health, no sign of the habitual drug use prevalent in her sector of society. Death had occurred through blood loss, though Sam was bemused that such a thing could have happened through the small wounds still visible on the inside of her upper arm and high on her inner thigh.

 

 

"Perhaps she was a haemophiliac," Sam mused as he followed an unusually quiet Gene back to the CID offices.

 

 

"Don't be such an idiot," Gene retorted and Sam was sure that Gene was about to mangle the English language in hither-unforetold ways, most likely in a way as to insult at least one minority. "Didn't you see anything in the morgue just now? There was no bruising. No bruising at all."

 

 

Sam shrugged, "And that means?"

 

 

"Christ Sam, are you thick?" Gene rounded on him as they came to a bend in the corridor. "It means that there was no blood left in her. Comprendez?" He turned back and marched off.

 

 

Still bemused, Sam could only stare at Gene's back as he walked through the double doors leading to the room that housed the elite of Manchester's police force, CID.

 

 

As Sam followed Gene into the office, he was surprised to find most members of CID, including a pale-faced Annie, and a fair number of uniformed officers already assembled there. Obviously word had got around, but word about what, Sam was still unsure of. Gene strode into the middle of the gathering, pausing only to grab at a file that Chris held out for him, and clapped his hands loudly to quell the rabble of raised voices, barely acknowledging the other man as Sam took his customary position next to his Guv.

 

 

"All right, you lot," Gene bellowed, and the sundry conversations slowly diminished. Gene waited with uncustomary patience.

 

 

When all was as quiet as could be expected with almost twenty people in the room, Gene nodded.

 

 

"I expect you've all heard what's going on," he started.

 

 

"I haven't, muttered Sam.

 

 

"Shut it, Tyler," Gene muttered back and carried on. "Well, I'm sorry to say that the rumours are true."

 

 

A general murmur of consternation greeted that pronouncement, to the obvious bewilderment of Sam.

 

 

"What is going on?" he asked Gene, the excitement around him drowning out his quiet comment.

 

 

"I've told you once, shut it. I'll tell you what I think you need to know after the briefing."

 

 

"It’s not likely to be the same as what I actually do need to know," retorted Sam and received a none-to-subtle stamp on his foot as a reply.

 

 

"So it's the same drill as last time. All leave is cancelled as of now. It's all hands to the pumps. You know what happened before; we need to catch this creature fast, before it does any more damage. So for now I want my boys on the streets. Talk to anyone and everyone. You know what this means, I want known associates, and unknown associates, of the dead girl. I want to know of any rumours of suspicious deaths in the last couple of weeks. This sort of thing goes bad quickly and I don't want an epidemic on my hands. The rest of you, you've got two hours off. Get some kip. Sort yourselves out and report for duty at sundown. We're going to be out there, all night if necessary. While we know what we're dealing with, we don't know who we're dealing with. Treat everything you see as suspect until you know better.

 

 

"Tyler, a word." 

 

 

One by one the rabble dispersed, all talking seriously and looking worried. Sam followed Gene into his inner sanctum where, leaning against the door, he bemusedly watched Gene pour himself a double scotch from the bottle in his bottom drawer.

 

 

"Okay, Guv. Spill. What the bloody hell is going on?" he exclaimed, exasperated beyond breaking point at being left out of the information loop.

 

 

Gene just snorted, downing his drink in one go. "Oh, the man from Hyde asks 'what is going on'. A bloody national emergency, that's what. If it gets out within the next few hours. No man or woman safe on the streets."

 

 

"Save the histrionics for someone who gives a damn, _Guv_. Just the basic facts will do."

 

 

"You've got them already, Sherlock. Didn't they teach you anything in Hyde? Drained bodies, full of holes. And that's the worst time. That's when you know they've lost control, lost all sense of what's proper. Well, what's proper in their society. Rabid, that's what it is. And it spreads so fast." Gene's hands actually shook as he poured his second glass of scotch, but he rallied enough to remember to pour Sam one as well.

 

 

"I still don't understand. Take it from the beginning, Gene." Sam sipped at his drink as the other man downed his second. "You know who is doing this. Who is it?"

 

 

"Not who. That's the hard part. What."

 

 

"So _what_ is doing this?"

 

 

"And again I ask you, what the hell do they teach you in Hyde? Surely you've come across vampires before?"

 

 

Sam choked on his whisky. "Vampires?" he asked in a strained voice.

 

 

"Yes, vampires. You have heard of them?"

 

 

"Oh yes, Negligée-clad ladies looking anaemic in the moonlight. Men in stupid sunglasses moaning about lost loves. I've seen Bram Stoker's Dracula. I know what vampires are. What I want to know is why you think a character from bad horror fiction is roaming the streets of Manchester in the here and now."

 

 

"I don't think, Sam. I know. Last time I lost three good officers before we caught the creature that had started it and its nest of unholy followers. I had to cut the head off my own Inspector and all because I wasn't quick enough off the mark in dealing with this sort of scum. I'm not going to let that happen again, Tyler, Do you understand?"

 

 

Gene's voice had risen to a near shout by the time he had finished his little speech and he was breathing heavily. He started at Sam with overbright eyes and Sam was shocked to realise that the great Gene Hunt was actively scared. Sam swallowed whatever witty remark he was about to make and nodded dumbly instead.

 

 

"So what do we do about this?"

 

 

"I was rather hoping you would use some of your nancy Hyde policing and pull our nuts out of the fire before the press get a hold of this and start a panic in the streets. So come on, Tommy, how do you deal with bastard vampires in Hyde?"

 

 

Sam answered carefully, still half-convinced he was being set-up. "Well, where I come from, we don't generally have that sort of trouble. You could say, in fact, that to us they are completely fictional."

 

 

"You have a prevention scheme that actually works then? I'm definitely going to have to have a word with you about that after this is over. But, for now, there must be something in the poncy 'book' you're always following."

 

 

"Oh, yeah. Chapter Thirteen. ' _How to Deal with Bastard Vampires_ '. No, Guv. There's nothing in PACE that deals directly with them. Sorry."

 

 

Gene collapsed into his chair, which gave an alarming creak, and put his head in his hands. "So that's it then. We're done for."

 

 

Sam stared, horrified by the spectacle in front of him. "No. No! I didn't mean that! I just meant that there's no explicit methodology listed in the PACE Code of Practice. But if we apply the general principles of the Code, then we should be able to beat this threat and, er, drive the demons from our city."

 

 

Gene raised his head and stared. "You sure?"

 

 

Sam nodded, eager.

 

 

"Well, then. Spill."

 

 

"Okay. First, crime scene. Has anyone checked it out?"

 

 

Gene indicated to the file. "If you'd bothered reading this you would know there isn't one."

 

 

"I've not had chance because you've had hold of it," Sam pointed out reasonably. "There isn't one?"

 

 

Gene shook his head. "Body was left at Casualty by some bloke a couple of hours ago. He vanished immediately afterward. Sandra was IDed by one of the nurses, we've no ID or description of the bloke."

 

 

"That's odd, if he was seen with the body."

 

 

"It's Casualty. They tend to be too busy making sure patients don't die to take character studies of all the folk who come in. A traffic pile-up came in about the same time. No-one thought about it until he was missed."

 

 

"Great," moaned Sam sarcastically. "No witnesses either then. What about friends or colleagues? Pimp?"

 

 

"That's what Ray, Chris and Cartwright have been doing for the last couple of hours. Sukey says Sandra called it a night about half two and that was the last she saw of her. We've not been able to find anyone else so far that remembers seeing her."

 

 

"Okay, so no crime-scene, no witnesses. What about forensics? Her clothes or other personal effects?" At Gene's bemused look, Sam clarified, "Anything she was carrying?"

 

 

"Well, there's the funny thing. There isn't any."

 

 

"It's gone missing?"

 

 

"No, there wasn't any to start with. She was left at Casualty, naked as the day she was born."

 

 

"And still no-one noticed the man who brought her in? Very strange indeed. So no forensics either."

 

 

Sam stared at Gene in increasing helplessness. "If we can't get a hold of the crime any other way, we have to stick with the girl. Means, motive, opportunity."

 

 

"He's a vampire, he's a vampire and he's a vampire. I think that covers all the bases there. But I'll have Annie talk to the girls a bit more, perhaps they might remember something."

 

 

"Okay. And in the meantime, I'll get down to the Collators' Den, see if I can't dig out anything that might fit the MO."

 

 

Gene just nodded and Sam frowned even more.

 

 

"I'll, er, go then."

 

 

Gene rallied himself, pulling a cigarette out of the packet on his desk and lighting it. "Whatever, Sam. But make sure you're back in an hour and a half – we've got a city to protect and it's going to be a very long night."


	4. Track 4: Time

Ninety minutes later Sam strode back into the office after finally managing to find someone who would give him some straight answers to what he was beginning to call the 'V' question and he made a mental note to make sure Noreen down in Accounts got a big box of chocolates after everything was over. The sight which greeted him, as he walked in, however, was one of the most terrifying things he had witnessed in his entire career.

 

 

"Haven't any of you heard to the word 'subtle'?" he asked as he took in the wild array of wooden weapons and camouflage gear. Ray seemed to be wearing some kind of onion garland strung round his neck and Parker the largest crucifix Sam had ever had the misfortune to see. And that was saying something, considering the number of Catholic churches his Mother had dragged him to over the years.

 

 

As his eyes cast over Chris, stood to one side with the usually-uniformed coppers, his mind shuddered to a halt. "And what the hell do you call that?!"

 

 

"It's an ASD. An automatic stake-deployer," Chris explained, caressing the rather unusual weapon gently. "I made it meself."

 

 

"So I can see, Chris." Sam gave the metal and string contraption a baleful glare before striding over to Gene, who appeared to be refilling his flasks in the middle of the room.

 

 

"And what the bloody hell are you doing? Making sure you don't run out of scotch during the night?"

 

 

"It's holy water, Tyler." Gene growled. "One of the only things that can slow a vampire down."

 

 

"Oh. Well." Sam stuttered. "That sounds fine. Er, carry on."

 

 

"Thank you very much, Inspector. So glad it meets your approval."

 

 

Abashed, Sam turned on the assembled troops. "Ray, get rid of the shallots, they're stinking the place out. Even garlic doesn't work against vampires, so God knows why you thought they would be useful. And Parker! Take off that bloody crucifix. It's not going to help you if the vampire turns out to be Jewish, is it?"

 

 

Parker, made a face, but put aside the offending article without a word. Ray however, didn't. 

 

 

"Can't not help," he sneered, "Boss."

 

 

"Actually, Sergeant, it can 'not help'. No-one currently knows that there's definitely a, er, vampire out there. So we're going to have to patrol this city quietly. Which means no camouflage gear, no giant religious pendants and definitely no allii."

 

 

"Allii, boss?" Chris commented.

 

 

"As 'of the genus Allium'; garlic, leeks, onions, shallots and what-have-you."

 

 

"Wouldn't that be Alliums then, boss?"

 

 

"Whatever they are, I don't want to see them. Period."

 

 

"But me Mum does a really nice French Onion Soup…"

 

 

"That's enough, Chris." Sam bellowed, finally losing his patience. "And get rid of that contraption as well. If you're going to be carrying random fencing around at least make it inconspicuous. So you can hide it if necessary. Remember, we don't want to scare the general public. This is what we are going to do. Plain clothes, squads of only two or three. One stake only per person. Do not go looking for trouble, but be prepared to offer assistance if you can. Only use your stake in an emergency and radio in immediately on apprehension so we can get it sorted out quickly and efficiently. The watchword tonight, gentlemen, is being inconspicuous."

 

 

"That's two," muttered Ray, but Sam valiantly ignored him.

 

 

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

 

 

With obvious sighs, the crowd broke up, half-heartedly, but willing to follow Sam's orders. Sam took advantage of the confusion to sidle up to Gene who had finished filling his flasks with holy water.

 

 

"If decapitation is the only way of really sorting these, er, vampires out," Sam asked, "why don't we issue everyone with a sword?"

 

 

Gene looked at Sam, horrified. "The div over there can barely tie his shoelaces and you want to arm him with four foot of razor-sharp steel? And some of the others aren't much better. Do you really want that bunch of no-hopers running around the city with swords? Think carefully now."

 

 

Sam conceded the point with a slow shake of the head. Indeed, it was quite a horrific thought now that Gene had pointed it out. But still…

 

 

"So how do we deal with any incapacitated, but still viable, er, vampires?"

 

 

"We radio in for Oswald, of course.''

 

 

"Oswald?"

 

 

"Yeah. Which reminds me, we need to speak to him before we go out hunting tonight. So get your skates on."

 

 

''I'm ready to go, Guv."

 

 

Gene cast a doubtful gaze over his DI and shrugged. "If you say so, Wilhelmina."

 

 

Both men were silent as they made their way into Oswald's domain. Gene was obviously preoccupied with the current problem and Sam felt far enough out of his depth not to volunteer anything. But the silence was oppressive and he finally the felt to need to say something.

 

 

"I didn't notice Annie at the briefing."

 

 

"I sent her off earlier to talk to Sukey and to go through Sandra's room. I told her to join Chris and Ray on patrol as soon as she had things wrapped up there.

 

 

"Keeping her out of the way, eh?"

 

 

"Best job for her," Gene countered. "Bit of women's solidarity and all that. Get more out of the girls that way."

 

 

Oswald met them at the doors to morgue and Gene proceeded to ask him a number of, what were to Sam, impenetrable questions.

 

 

"Is she dealt with?"

 

 

"Just finished."

 

 

"How did it go?"

 

 

Oswald grimaced. "About the same as normal. Quite harrowing, but ultimately straightforward."

 

 

"And was she…?"

 

 

"She showed all the signs, yes."

 

 

"Bad?"

 

 

"No more than usual." Oswald shrugged. "Early stages. I'd say death had happened at the same point; no more than five hours before she was delivered to me. She'd barely started to turn. Still she gave me a nasty nip." Oswald held up his arm that sported a large bandage.

 

 

"It is okay?"

 

 

"No problem. Not got it in her."

 

 

"Well, that's a relief. It wouldn't do to lose you to the other side now."

 

 

Oswald nodded. "I've still got a bit of work to do, but it's all under control."

 

 

"What is going on?" Sam hissed. 

 

 

"Oswald here has dealt with the problem of Sandra."

 

 

"Problem?"

 

 

"Problems of a vampiric nature."

 

 

"Oh, of course," Sam almost managed not to sound sarcastic.

 

 

Gene ignored him and turned back to Oswald. "Is there anything else you need from us before we get out on to the streets?"

 

 

Oswald shook his head. "It's all under control here, Chief Inspector, just promise me you won't let another poor soul be sent down here like this."

 

 

"I'll do my best, Oswald, I'll do my best."

 

 

"That's all we can ever ask of you. Good luck, gentlemen. And good hunting."


	5. Track 5: The Great Gig in the Sky

It was well after dawn by the time Sam and Gene made it back to the station. Gene dismissed his squad immediately, telling them to go home and get some rest. Both he and Sam, however, retired immediately to his office, whereupon Gene opened a bottle of scotch and poured them both a generous measure.

 

 

Sam took a sip of the warming liquor and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that went a lot better than expected. No casualties and we kept the peace adequately."

 

 

Gene grimaced. "It wasn't a complete success. We didn't come any closer to catching the bastards."

 

 

"But we've got all day to work on that in an approved methodical manner. I'll hit the Collator's Den again as soon as I've had forty winks."

 

 

Gene nodded, more out of habit than of anything else. As far as Sam could see Gene wasn't listening to a word he said.

 

 

"So I'll, er, go then, shall I?"

 

 

Still not looking up from the fascinating secrets that were obviously to be found at the bottom of his glass of whisky, Gene nodded. "Whatever you think is best, Sam."

 

 

Sam was obscurely worried, but chose not to confront Gene at such a particularly stressful time for him. "Well, you know where to find me?"

 

 

Receiving no reply to that, Sam gave up, draining his glass and standing up to leave.

 

 

As Sam moved, still reluctantly, towards the door, Annie burst into the office, white-faced and shaking, the flung-open door narrowly missing Sam's face as he hastily moved out of the way. She sank down in the chair Sam had just vacated and poured herself a Scotch without waiting for an offer.

 

 

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed. "What a night I've had. Just my luck to be stuck with no backup and the battery in my radio dead again.''

 

 

Sam perched himself on the corner of Gene's desk and asked, solicitously, "What happened?"

 

 

Annie sipped at her drink, not quite meeting Sam's eyes. "What didn't happen! I've spent the last four hours defending the girls from a vampire horde. With only three civilians for company, I hasten to add. No weapons, no backup, no nothing."

 

 

"But I thought Ray and Chris stopped round at least twice."

 

 

"They did. The first time everything _was_ fine. Though I did tell Chris that my radio was out. I bet he forgot to relay on that message. That boy is so forgetful. The second time I was having trouble at the back door and Mary wouldn't answer the front, just in case the vampires had us surrounded. So she just shouted through the letterbox that everything was fine."

 

 

"Why didn't you telephone the station, if you knew you radio was dead?"

 

 

"The only phone in the place was a payphone and we'd run out of ten-pee pieces."

 

 

Sam cursed, not for the first time about the absence of mobile phones, or even the internet, in the here-and-now. Then he thought a bit more. "Why didn't you just dial 999? You can do that from any callbox for free."

 

 

"That's only for in an emergency, Sir," Annie answered, shocked, "and besides, once the vampires realised they could enter the communal hall, we couldn't get to the phone."

 

 

"So what did you do?"

 

 

"Sukey was an absolute star. She took out the male with a pair of hastily modified stilettos. Though I've told her we’ll reimburse her for those, Guv. They were apparently quite dear. Some designer or something."

 

 

"Did you properly dispose of the body?" Gene asked.

 

 

"Of course," retorted Annie, stung, "I may not have been in the Force the last time anything like this happened, but I have read the handbook. Sukey finished him off with a bullwhip. Took his head clean off!"

 

 

Gene nodded approvingly. "Got a good strong wrist action has that girl."

 

 

"Where on earth did she get a bullwhip from?" asked Sam, fascinated.

 

 

"I didn't ask, Sir," responded Annie, delicately. "But after he was done for, the two girls just went away."

 

 

"So he's been disintegrated and the other two have vanished. And we still don't know who they are."

 

 

"Oh, but we do! Mary recognised the man. His name was Bill Travers. A small time crook, been trying to muscle in on the soliciting trade for months."

 

 

"I know, knew of him," responded Gene. "Pain in the rear. Always looking to break into the big time. Looks like he bit off a bit more than he could chew.''

 

 

"We know who the two girls are as well," continued Annie. "There's Charlie, a friend of Sandra's. We thought she was out of town visiting her sister. Phyllis had not been able to contact the family all day today."

 

 

"Where do they live?"

 

 

"Birmingham, Guv."

 

 

"Thankfully, therefore, not our problem. I'll set Litton on to it; he's good at liaison. It'll make his day. And the other?"

 

 

"Chloë Adams, Guv. She was a student at the Polytechnic. Word on the street is she got into drugs about six months ago. Been hanging round the girls ever since, but no one knows exactly why. My theory is she fell in with Bill Travers. Recruitment perhaps?"

 

 

Gene nodded. "Sounds like it."

 

 

"Recruitment for what?" Sam asked.

 

 

Gene just raised an impassive eyebrow at Sam and turned his attention back to Annie.

 

 

"So, we need to find the girls and find them quick."

 

 

"Phyllis is already on it, Guv. No formal records have turned up as yet, I suspect they're still Jane Does at the hospital morgue. With any luck that is."

 

 

"And we'll keep our fingers crossed for that one. I don't want to be digging up building foundations until we've got a lot more to go on. You go get some shut-eye, while Sam and I'll go and take over from Phyllis. She's overstretched as she is and checking through records is hardly her forte."

 

 

Annie nodded and stood, leaving her now empty glass on the desk. "There wasn't anything else happening last night, Guv?" she asked as she turned to leave.

 

 

"Apart from your little adventure, it was as quiet as the grave."

 

 

"So, no more victims then?"

 

 

"Not that we're aware of."

 

 

"Good. It's a nasty way to go. I'll get to it, then, Guv." And with that, Annie took her leave.

 

 

Sam, after a moment's pause, followed her, catching up with Annie as she passed the door to Lost and Found.

 

 

"Are you all right?" he asked, with some consideration.

 

 

"Fine, Sir." Annie responded in a clipped tone.

 

 

"Did you, er, did you want me to walk you home?"

 

 

"Thank you for the offer, Sir," and this time the Sir was heavily stressed, "but I can manage quite well on my own. As I had to last night. I'm sure that there's plenty other things you could be doing that are more urgent." And with that, Annie turned on her heel and strode away.


	6. Track 6: Money

Checking though the pile of files that had been delivered to CID by a very relieved Phyllis, Sam finally voiced the niggling doubt he'd had since Annie had reported back in.

 

 

"You didn't sound that surprised that the, er, vampires had gone over to Sandra's place."

 

 

Gene shrugged and opened another file. "Was always a possibility, Sam."

 

 

Sam stared at Gene in shock. "You utter bastard! You set Annie up!"

 

 

"I just had a hunch they might go back. Not enough to warrant a number of officers, but enough to make sure that someone was there, if only to identify the group. I didn’t want to frighten the girls, did I?"

 

 

"You left her there alone, without any back-up!"

 

 

"How was I to know the radio batteries were dead? She was supposed to call-in immediately if things started to happen. Weren't my fault the other girls panicked and sent Ray and Chris away that second time. And, anyway, it all came out all right. She sorted out one of the bastards and got the identity of the other two. She did good."

 

 

"No thanks to you, _Gene_. She could've been killed. Or worse."

 

 

Gene grimaced, but stood firm. "There's no point in dwelling on the might-have-beens. Else we'd never get anything done for fear of messing it up."

 

 

"In _Hyde_ we'd've never put an officer in danger like that. Annie would've been fully briefed, she wouldn't've been alone and there'd've been regular check-ups to ensure everything was going to plan. And we'd've pulled her out of there if any of it started to go wrong."

 

 

"Oh, the oh-so-wonderful Hyde, again, eh? Well, I'm surprised you ever manage to get anything done, what with the hours of planning for every little thing you do. May I point out we're on a deadline here. If we can't stop these creatures soon the press will get hold of it and then you'll see what a full-scale panic is like. And once the news is out, we'll lose all control on the situation and there'll be massacres, both by the vampires and by the public on the hunt for them. Last time was not a pretty situation, Sam, and I don't want a repeat performance."

 

 

"When are you going to learn that the end does not justify the means, eh? Three vampires on one unarmed police officer and three civilians are not good odds. Annie is very lucky to have walked away from this one. And you set her up."

 

 

"You know, Tyler, I've had it up to here with your holier-than-thou attitude. I'm beginning to think you're not taking this seriously."

 

 

Sam snorted his disapproval. "How can I think otherwise when this is starting to read like a rejected script for a Sixties B movie, eh? Vampire hordes roaming the city and the quickest way to catch them is staking out the only female member of the team as a sort of sacrificial virgin. Really classy, Guv."

 

 

"And may I remind you, Tyler, that Annie is no virgin. To policework," Gene added at Sam's glare. "She's a respected member of my team and I expect any and all of you to be able to hold your own in this sort of situation. I picked her because she would be less likely to raise the suspicions of Sukey and the other girls and because, unlike you, she's good at following orders. It was more judgment than luck that she came through it okay, even when things started to go wrong. I think you don't give her enough credit."

 

 

Sam itched to get his hands around that thick neck. "And that's not the point. I just don't believe you. I'm off out and I'll be back after I've had something to eat."

 

 

"You can fetch me a bacon butty back then, Tyler. Some of us still have work to do."

 

 

Not replying, Sam turned on his heel and stalked through the doorway, almost immediately running smack into Annie, who had obviously been standing directly outside the door. From the look on her face, she had heard every word.

 

 

"Annie," he began, but she cut him off with a look.

 

 

"I knew what I was getting into, Sir." Her tone was icy.

 

 

"Gene was wrong, Annie. He shouldn't have put you in that position."

 

 

"Who else was going to do it, eh? Ray and Chris? You? None of you have a clue. For your information, it was my idea. And I don't appreciate you undermining my position here the way you are. I'm as much a member of this team as anyone and I don't need baby-sitting."

 

 

"You could've been in danger!" Sam exclaimed.

 

 

"I believe I was, _Sir._. But that's the nature of the job."

 

 

"No it's not. You should always mitigate the risk as much as possible. There's no sense in putting yourself in more danger than you have to."

 

 

"And I repeat, I was fine. We were all fine. Sure, the battery on the radio could've chosen another night to conk out, but apart from that it was fine. Okay?"

 

 

And with that, she brushed past him, knocking on the door of Gene's office and entering before anyone answered.

 

 

Sam, for his part, immediately stormed out of the building, feet taking him automatically down towards the canal. He couldn't believe either of them. The risks anyone took in this god-forsaken place were unconscionable. Well, they wouldn't get far back in 2007, if either of them pulled that sort of stunt he'd've hauled them over the coals. Just like Maya…

 

 

A wash of homesickness rolled over him. But he brushed it off with an angry stamp of his foot, sometimes he wondered why he bloody well jumped for them.

 

 

His thoughts were derailed at that point as he walked something soft and yielding. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologised to the woman he'd bumped into, and started as he recognised her. "Eleanor! How very nice to see you again!"

 

 

"You looked like you were miles away, Sam," Eleanor answered with a smile.

 

 

Sam nodded, ruefully. "Thinking about my boss, I'm afraid."

 

 

"You should get out more. All work and no play makes Sam a dull boy, you know."

 

 

"Don't I know it. Well, how about providing me with some company?"

 

 

"I'd love to, Sam. When?"

 

 

"How about tonight?" he raised an eyebrow. "There's a horror film festival on at the ABC, if you like? I think they are showing _Circus of Horrors_. Or _Mad Monster Party_. Can't remember which they're showing early. But either would be, well not good. But definitely entertaining."

 

 

Eleanor nodded, thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I've seen either," she smiled at Sam, charmingly. "So yes, a film sounds nice."

 

 

"I could pick you up, perhaps?"

 

 

"As I suspect you'll be busy at work until late, what with you being a copper, how about I meet you outside the cinema at seven?" 

 

 

Sam nodded, eagerly. "It's a date then. See you at seven."


	7. Track 7: Us and Them

Sam was quite cheerful as he made his way back into the office, even unbending enough to buy Gene his requested bacon sandwich, a fact that he was quick to dismiss as the effect of the crisp October weather on a mind that had had less sleep that it might have done in the last day or so. Even the sight of Gene, still in a fair old temper, could not dent Sam's mood.

 

 

"Where you been, Tyler? We've got work to do."

 

 

"You've traced the other two, er, vampires?"

 

 

"Got Charlie. I've still got Chris working on Chloë. Shouldn't be too long before we work out where she's hiding. Oswald will be meeting us there."

 

 

"So where are we going?"

 

 

"Back to the morgue, Sammy-boy."

 

 

Oswald was, indeed waiting for them, dressed in his customary scrubs. He eyed them up and down. "You should get changed, you know."

 

 

"Those pyjamas don't suit me," sniffed Gene. But he did go as far as to remove his coat. "It's hot in here," he explained.

 

 

Sam, who was pretty sure that the temperature in the morgue was kept at just above freezing, forbore to comment. He also stripped off his jacket, but, at a glance from Gene, also refused a set of scrubs.

 

 

Oswald shrugged. "On your own head be it. There is some good news for the pair of you, we've managed to locate both girls and they're both here. So that's going to save us some time. Problem is, they're in berths one on top of the other."

 

 

"Kinky," Gene interjected.

 

 

"So we're going to have problems staking them in situ," Oswald continued, pointedly ignoring Gene. "The screams tend to be loud enough to wake the dead. Literally. What I propose is that we move Charlie into the office, which should afford some soundproofing, then sort out Chloë. Then we deal with Charlie."

 

 

"Sounds like a plan," Gene nodded.

 

 

Charlie was easily moved, the body as lifeless as it should be as they stowed her in the office. Oswald locked the door and turned back to the two detectives. "Right, to deal with Chloë. If you gentlemen will stand either side and hold her firmly to the bench. Keep your arms out of the way of her teeth though."

 

 

Gene and Sam did so, and Oswald positioned a stake above her breastbone. "This is going to hurt," he said.

 

 

"Can she hear you?" Sam asked.

 

 

"I was talking to you, not her," Oswald replied and hammered the stake straight through the body.

 

 

It did indeed hurt. Chloë immediately started to struggle, letting out an inhuman wail, and Sam was quite sure his ears were about to bleed. But it cut off as quickly as had begun, the silence all the more shocking for the sound that had preceded it.

 

 

Oswald left the stake pointing out of the girl's body and picked up the sword. "I'd stand back, gentlemen, if I were you."

 

 

Both Sam and Gene moved out of the way and Oswald brought the sword down on the girl's neck and two things occurred simultaneously. The body on the bench dissolved into a fine blood-red mist which coated all three men, and a hideous howl erupted from the doorway where Charlie stood, having somehow managed to escape the locked office, her face twisted in an evil scowl. She launched herself at Oswald who quickly grabbed at something and pointed it at her. A stake immediately pierced her heart and she dropped like a stone.

 

 

Oswald calmly strode over to her and cut her head off the same way he had Chloë's and Charlie burst into the same red mist. Wiping the residue from his face, Sam rather hoped that vampires didn't commonly carry any of the nastier blood-borne pathogens.

 

 

"What the hell is that?" asked Sam, indicating to the contraption Oswald carried.

 

 

"It's an automatic stake deployer. Comes in quite handy."

 

 

"So I can see," nodded Sam, thoughtfully.

 

 

Oswald put down the ASD, got out a mop and cleaned up Chloë's remains. "Thank you very much for your help, gentlemen. That job is a hell of a lot easier with three than it would've been with one."

 

 

"So that's it, is it? We've staked the vampires, the city is clean and we're in the clear."

 

 

Oswald shook his head. "Not really, it's a lot more complicated than that, Inspector. See, there are vampires and there are Master Vampires. Think of them as two different species, if you want. Except, of course, only Masters can make other vampires."

 

 

"How?"

 

 

"Frankly, we have no idea. There's theories, of course. A transfer of something else at the same time as the initial turning, or later perhaps."

 

 

"Like Midichlorians," Sam muttered.

 

 

"Pardon?"

 

 

"Oh, just something I heard about. In a film. They're a sort of a microscopic life-form that lives in the blood."

 

 

"Hmm. I've not actually heard of that before. Interesting theory. But no. That would imply that there's no conscious decision to turn a person and it depends on how many of these 'minichlorides' of yours the vampire has at any one time. Or of course, that they can control the release of these organisms deliberately. Which I doubt. Symbiotic or parasitic organisms tend to like to spread out in their preferred habitat, mitochondria in cells is a perfect example. So if they live in the blood, then they would tend to be found throughout the body, regardless. Eyewitness accounts, which admittedly are not completely reliable, as you will appreciate, Inspector, do indicate that there's a two-way transfer of blood at or immediately before the point of death. But those vampires observed being created have, almost without exception, all been common or garden vampires."

 

 

Oswald was in full lecture mode by now and he began to pace up and down the small room, waving his hands in illustration of his explanations.

 

 

"It is accepted lore that there is another act that needs to be performed to create a Master Vampire and current theory is leaning towards acts of a sexual nature. Some sort of transfer of seminal and/or vaginal fluid. It has even been mooted that it has to be heterosexual in nature as in the creation of life, although I'm a little more sceptical in that, as that would put a limit on the number of male Master Vampires and they do seem to be marginally in the majority throughout history."

 

 

Sam's eyes glazed slightly as he tried to follow this. "So you're saying that there's a deliberate decision on behalf of a Master Vampire to promote another to his rank?"

 

 

"In essence, yes."

 

 

"So, what does that mean for us?"

 

 

Gene interjected. "It means that either good old Billy or one of these two were Masters or we've still got a huge problem on our hands."

 

 

"How so?"

 

 

"Right, we know that there's a Master out there somewhere, because Sandra had started to change before Oswald dealt with her earlier. He's recruited four minions in the last few days. Which is an unusual activity in itself. So what's he recruiting for? We accept the existence of these creatures in our city at the moment so long as they don't over-recruit, don't kill anyone completely and maintain the status quo. We don't have any other way of dealing with them. If a Master is rocking the boat, we need to do something about it and we need to do something fast."

 

 

Oswald nodded. "And it's worse than that. This Master is not covering up his tracks. Sandra was full of holes, something you only see when a vampire doesn't care about not been noticed any more. That's suicide for him here. We know about them you see. We know how to detect them and how to deal with them. In my professional opinion, he's insane."

 

 

"Okay. So, he's insane. Big deal. What makes him so different to the pair we were dealing with earlier?"

 

 

"You don't understand, Inspector. Masters are stronger and faster than their ordinary brethren. They can also withstand sunlight, although their powers are somewhat diminished during the daylight hours. That means they are harder to detect. Until they start doing things like leaving bodies in the open, of course. And, even then, it's difficult to ascertain who, exactly, they are.

 

 

"So neither of the girls we dealt with today really ring my alarm bells. A genuine Master would put up a fight. And they wouldn't stay still in some morgue; it'd be 'you made a mistake. I was just in a narcoleptic coma. So sorry that I scared you witless', and off back into the city, back to their friends and family, who wouldn't necessarily notice a thing. Until the creature didn't age of course. Or they were careless in their feeding habits. Or if their family had a long-standing feud with the creatures."

 

 

Here Oswald frowned. "To be honest, I have my doubts about the other one as well. Bill Travers. Far be it from me to underestimate the determination of the fairer sex, but he still should've been more difficult to kill, if Constable Cartwright is truly accurate in her relation of the night's events." He turned away.

 

 

As Oswald started to clear up his equipment, Sam looked at Gene and hissed, "How on earth does he know all that stuff?"

 

 

"My name is Doctor Oswald Spear, but my mother's maiden name was Elsinore," Oswald turned back from the bench, having plainly heard Sam's aside and looking expectant, as if the name should mean something to Sam.

 

 

Sam racked his brains for a moment, trying desperately to come up with something. _Elsinore… Elsinor… Elsin…_ He choked. "Van Helsing? You're Van Helsing?"

 

 

Oswald grinned widely. "My great-grandfather, actually. We had to anglicize the name during the First World War. You do know your demonology, don't you? We should sit down and chat sometime."

 

 

"But not right now, Oswald. Sammy-boy and me need to be out there, doing our job."

 

 

"With any luck, I'm wrong, gentlemen. But you know where I'll be if you need me. Now, if you will excuse me, I better get cleaned up."

 

 

Walking out of the morgue, having been politely, but firmly dismissed by the corpulent pathologist, Sam was still unsure.

 

 

"So what _do_ we do now? Apart from getting changed, that is."

 

 

Gene sighed heavily, "For now, there's nothing we can do. Except hope that old Billy was our man. We can only keep our eyes peeled and hope that nothing untoward happens. And if it does, we can stop it before all hell breaks loose again."

 

 

This new Guv, this man who was willing to sit back and wait for things to happen, was so at odds with Sam's normal view of him that Sam was momentarily nonplussed. But he shook away the feeling. He was sure that the crazy world that he had found himself in this week would soon fade away and be replaced by the normal crazy world that he was used to. Or, of course, be replaced by something even more surreal. But he was getting rather used to that as well.


	8. Track 8: Any Colour You Like

It was with a strange reluctance Sam got ready to meet up with Eleanor. Sure, she was good company, but it'd been a hell of a couple of days and he could do with a nice quiet night in, just him and a nice single malt. But, in his anger at Gene, and at Annie putting up with Gene, he'd agreed to go out and he wasn't about to let down a new friend, was he?

 

 

It was all a little odd, in fact, this desperate need to connect with someone who didn't have anything to do with the Force. Growing up, perhaps. Or just recognising that coppers, on the whole, made lousy friends.

 

 

But the realities of the job still made it difficult to meet any new friends. Any shift left him so tired as to make going out for an evening as to be a chore. Especially if the said shift seemed to be never-ending.

 

 

In the event, the film was completely awful and, with a little prodding from Sam who was starting to fall asleep, Eleanor finally conceded that there would be more to be gained by leaving than by staying.

 

 

They stepped out into the frigid air and Sam pulled his jacket around him, shivering. "Where and what do you fancy next? Dinner?"

 

 

Eleanor shrugged. "Sure. Or a drink. Somewhere less crowded, perhaps?"

 

 

Sam blushed. "A drink then," he heard himself saying. "It would be lovely to get to know you better."

 

 

They started to walk down the road. It was a clear night, frosty, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to huddle together against the cold. Sam threw a friendly arm around Eleanor's shoulder and she snuggled in close. Even when she grabbed at his hand, pulling him down a dark alleyway, Sam didn't think anything of it. Perhaps it was just a shortcut.

 

 

She stopped about halfway down, pushing Sam back against the wall.

 

 

"What…?"

 

 

"Shhhh," she replied, and braced herself against the wall, hands either side of Sam's head, and leaned in.

 

 

Her lips tasted like wine, intoxicatingly sweet, and Sam felt he could drown in her kisses forever. He brought his hands up and around her waist, pulling her in close, the swell of her breasts brushing at his chest.

 

 

"Annie," he moaned. And then his eyes flew open. He tried to push Eleanor away from him. "Annie! I can't…"

 

 

Eleanor leaned in, looking straight into Sam's eyes and ground her hips against his. His cock immediately responded, swelling under the stimulation.

 

 

"Forget about her," Eleanor purred, kissing his face, his cheek, his ear. "Think about me, instead."

 

 

Sam dropped his head back against the wall as Eleanor licked and kissed down his throat. It was becoming difficult to think at all and he let himself drift. He groaned as she started to unbutton his shirt, sliding a cool hand across his fevered flesh, her long, painted nails dragging across his skin, raising shudders from him as they caught at the sensitive skin of the nipples. His arms fell to his sides, palms holding onto the wall, rough brick grounding him as Eleanor played him like a musical instrument. 

 

 

Sam closed his eyes against the sensations, riding the euphoria. "Oh, God. Eleanor. Are, are you giving me a hickey?!"

 

 

He could feel her smile against his neck and he giggled. "Rampant teenagers indeed." With reluctance, Sam lost the fight to remain focussed and instead was carried along by the pleasure building up inside him, his heart beating in his head, the drums carrying him down, down into the dark.

 

 

It may have been seconds, it may have been hours, but Sam could hear the drums slowing. Where were they? He was still trying to figure it out when an impossible voice cut through the darkness. Sam knew that his head must be playing tricks on him, as the voice seemed to call out:

 

 

"Unhand my DI, or I will smite thee!"

 

 

Sam felt Eleanor jerk back; her fingernails digging into his arms as she pushed him back into the wall. 

 

 

"Never!" she cried.

 

 

Sam couldn't focus, couldn't get his mind to work. He blinked slowly, his eyelids were so heavy. But there was Eleanor, standing in front of him. Her lips were so red, ruby red. He wanted, needed, to kiss them.

 

 

He leaned forward, his lips seeking hers, but she was torn from him, a blur of hair and sweet perfume, which even in his lust-dazed state his brain still registered as Annie, screaming "Take that, you bitch!"

 

 

Without Eleanor to hold him up, Sam's knees buckled and he slowly slid down the wall. It really was foggy out tonight, he could hardly see a thing in front of him. Annie was there, in front of him, but she was all blurred. Which was obviously why he thought he could see something long and thick in her hands. What was she doing to Eleanor? He didn't really mean to kiss her, really. Perhaps if he told Annie that she'd let her go. Damn the woman for being so jealous anyway. That inhuman noise? Cats fighting perhaps? Foxes? He really didn't feel very well. Perhaps he was coming down with something. So, cold, so cold. 'Flu perhaps. Would just be his luck to catch something fatal now. Why couldn't he think? Wasn't that Gene there? What was he doing with a sword? Sam reached out towards the apparition, but it was too much for him and, unbalanced, he pitched forward into the blackness.


	9. Track 9: Brain Damage

Coming to, Sam registered several things at once. Cool, crisp linen sheets, an unrelenting beep of machinery, the blinding glare of lights that were never switched off. He knew he had done this before. Several times, in fact. Each occasion blurred into one, so he didn't know how he had got here. The bus crash, perhaps. But that was a long time ago, surely. He hadn't been asleep that long?

 

 

A presence registered itself in his mind, a cool hand clasping at his and he tried desperately to focus on the shadowy figure at his side.

 

 

"Mum?" he croaked through dry and cracked lips.

 

 

Lips pressed gently at his temple. "Just go to sleep, Sam," a feminine and, above all, welcome voice said. "You're safe. Just get some rest and I'll still be here when you wake up."

 

 

With a relieved sigh, Sam complied.

 

 

It may have been minutes, it may have been hours later, but it felt like nothing had changed when Sam woke again. Which was blatantly untrue as it was quiet and dim where he was, rather than bright and full of sound. Now feeling much better, Sam could see that his constant visitor was Annie, still sat at his side as she had promised, though the long wait had obviously taken its toll as she now lay head pillowed on the arm attached to the hand holding his. Her dark hair fanning out on the white sheets, Sam felt a surge of affection for her. He gently moved his arm and Annie stirred, blinking at him with sleep-softened eyes.

 

 

"Oh, you're awake, Sam!" 

 

 

She let go of his hand and levered herself up, reaching out to the small table next to the bed and pouring him a glass of water.

 

 

Sam drank gratefully and was rewarded with a smile from Annie.

 

 

"What happened? What am I doing in hospital?"

 

 

"You lost a lot of blood, Sam."

 

 

"What did I rupture this time?"

 

 

"Don't you remember what happened?"

 

 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "I went for a drink with…" he caught himself. "We were walking. An alleyway. She… Oh my God, you were there!" He turned his face away for a moment, horrified at what he'd done. Then, even more ashamed at his reaction, he deliberately turned back and looked Annie in the eye. "Annie," he started.

 

 

She laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Hush. Yes, I was there and I saw exactly what happened."

 

 

Sam groaned and braced himself for the rejection that he was sure would follow. But Annie, as ever, surprised him.

 

 

"I saw what she did. She was killing you, Sam. And I have never been more frightened in my life than when you collapsed. There was so much blood, I thought you were dead!"

 

 

"But I betrayed you!" moaned Sam, guilt-ridden. "You were so angry with me after the nightclub and I still went to the pictures with her."

 

 

"And if she had been just another woman, Sam, I'd've ripped your bollocks off and fed them to you," said Annie severely. "But she wasn't. She was a vampire and, oh Sam, don't you see? She put the 'fluence on you so you couldn't resist. She was just using you. And, Sam, I have to forgive you for that because it really wasn't your fault."

 

 

Sam, rather wisely, kept quiet at that. But he resolved never again to chat to other stunningly beautiful women in nightclubs. Especially if Annie was watching.

 

 

Instead he patted Annie's hand reassuringly. "So what happens now?"

 

 

"Well the consultant wants to see you. He was quite worried about you when you didn't come round quickly, even though all your vital signs were strong. But when we explained that you'd not had any sleep for two days he understood. Of course, he needed the hospital bed, and we couldn't take you home the way you were. So…"

 

 

"So where the hell am I?"

 

 

Annie had the grace to look abashed. "The only spare place was the hospital morgue. And even then we were told that if the coroner needed it you were going elsewhere, even if that was one of the drawers."

 

 

Sam closed his eyes in horror. "Please, please tell me I'm not lying on one of the autopsy tables."

 

 

"No, silly. It's the cot in the office. Ray _did_ suggest that we bed you down on one of them but Oswald reckoned that might be a bit of a shock for you."

 

 

Sam nodded, faintly, and issued a fervent prayer of thanks to the older man.

 

 

"Oh, and speaking of Oswald, he needs see you before you go. Something to do with making sure you're not likely to go vampiric on us."

 

 

"Is that likely?" Sam asked, suddenly panicked.

 

 

Annie shrugged. "Not my field of expertise, I'm afraid. But I can't see that he's that worried. He wouldn't have left me on my own with you overnight if he really did suspect you might turn."

 

 

Sam sat up and clapped his hands together. "How quickly can we blow this joint?" he started to say as he swung his legs out of the small bed and stood up, raring to go.

 

 

Unfortunately the effect of defiance was rather lost as he crumpled to the floor.

 

 

"You better watch that, Sam," Annie added. "The consultant said that you might feel rather woozy for a while and that you'd have to take it easy."

 

 

Taking it easy, in the end, encompassed a thorough check over by Oswald; who declared Sam fit and unlikely to grow pointy teeth. Though he did stress that the avoidance of direct sunlight and religious artefacts for the next month or so would be a good idea.

 

 

It also encompassed a degree of paperwork, it being Gene's rationale that if Sam was fit enough to sit behind a desk and if Sam liked all that procedural bollocks, then he could wrap up the reports personally. Which, no doubt, cheered Ray, Chris and Annie up no end. Sam didn't even mind that much, even if he had to ask how to explain the absence of bodies in each of the cases.

 

 

"Biohazard," Oswald had sniffed. "Cremated remains are available for the next of kin to bury, if required."

 

 

Sam, very wisely, refrained from asking exactly _whose_ cremated remains would be available on request.

 

 

So all in all, it was back to normal. Including, as it happened, a public dressing down by Gene, in his own inimitable way.

 

 

"And Tyler, I'm surprised at you. You get into more trouble than the rest of these idiots put together. Last year it was partial-zombification by our much-missed Jamaican landlord; this year you're almost-vampirised. If it hadn't been for Chris working out who the hell was munching through my city, well. It wouldn't have been 'almost'. Tell you what, if you discover werewolves in Lancashire next year I'll shoot you myself."

 

 

"There are werewolves in Lancashire?" asked Sam, vaguely fascinated.

 

 

"Not any more there aren't," growled Ray.

 

 

Gene clapped his hands together decisively, cutting off anything else Ray might feel he wished to add. "Ladies, now that's all settled, it's beer o'clock. Last man there, mine's a double."

 

 

A general consensus of 'pub' sounded round the room and it cleared within seconds, leaving Sam and Gene still standing in the middle.

 

 

"Pub, Tyler?"

 

 

Sam thought for a moment, then nodded. "I shouldn't; the consultant reckoned that I should stay off alcohol. But, yeah, okay, I've nothing better to do."

 

 

"Well, that's good then. You can have a bottle of Mackeson's. They give that to ladies with a bun in the oven. Will do you the world of good." Gene flung a matey arm around his erstwhile Inspector as they walked towards the lift. "And then you can explain to me all about this brilliant Vampire Prevention Scheme you have in Hyde."


	10. Chapter 10

And now our tale is almost done, but please spare a thought for our poor, neglected hero. Once again he stands gazing across the city, sipping at a pure malt scotch and feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavily across his shoulders. He knows that Eleanor has been a liability from the start and he knows, in his heart, that it has to end this way. But he feels regret for her loss, as he feels regret and sadness for all his children he has lost through the years. Each one he makes, he hopes will live up to their great potential. But one by one they have fallen. To greed, to lust, to the sheer madness of immortality.

 

 

Yes, Eleanor has been a mistake. He now knows he should never have given her the power he did. She has abused that in her ignorance and in doing so has come close to betraying her Master completely. But that is the nature of the young and it is up to their guardians to give them the tools to handle that. He has failed Eleanor, just as she has failed him. Just as he has failed so many of his children.

 

 

Only Alice has ever come close to achieving his dream for his children. And, in her red dress and with her knowing rhymes, she finally took another direction. But to make one so young... In her way she has achieved more than he could ever hope for, even if he still wonders if she made a grave mistake in the bargain she made. Only time will tell on that score. And time is one thing they both have in abundance.

 

 

Tomorrow, well. Tomorrow will be another day. He has had his eye on a couple of decent prospects at the office for a while now. Perhaps he will turn them both. Perhaps he will turn neither. But for now he still has the night and the light of the smoky-red moon, hanging low in the sky.

 

 

Draining the scotch in one long-practiced move, Detective Constable Christopher Skelton, Master Vampire of the City of Manchester, finally turns away from the window, from the responsibility of protecting his city for just one night and embraces the true nature of his race.


End file.
